Red Indigo
by Zhi'rev
Summary: 'A variety of senses were opening themselves, unfolding and crashing down upon her, almost overwhelming her. Dynamic feelings burst upon every bit of her skin, the smell of dust and stone and oil bit her nose...She began, slowly, to let the heat overcome the ice cold. But he pushed her away. The black invaded. Sleep-like.' I promise it's not an OC, she wasn't on the character list.


**This is...weirdness. No! Don't judge it off of that, please.**

 **Warning: Heavy on the angst. Read at your own risk. (Does anybody ever heed these warnings…? I doubt it.)**

* * *

A variety of senses were opening themselves, unfolding and crashing down upon her, almost overwhelming her. Dynamic feelings burst upon every bit of her skin, the smell of dust and stone and oil bit her nose, and the taste of unbearably salty blood in her mouth caused her to wonder what had happened that she could be injured. (She feels, somehow, that she has never been hurt, all by herself, before. No one has had to heal her; she has done the healing.)

The first thing that she saw was blackness. She had opened her eyes now, so she really was seeing it, but there was also a feeling of utter emptiness around her. So maybe blackness was all that there was. That was not so very hard to believe. Absently, she wondered where she might be. She felt quite certain that she had come from somewhere, but here was somewhere as well, so there could not be much done except to sit and wait for something to happen. (Unless there was something she was not thinking of, which there was not.)

But no, light was gradually growing in the corner of her vision. She sat up and turned toward it, blinking, and curious. It was crystal-white, with flickers of clear dancing around the golden-tipped edges, like a fountain of diamond. Only was that what liquid diamond looked like? (She cannot quite seem to bring it to memory.)

She satisfied herself that certainly it looked like something that she had seen before, and so there really was not much more to think about on that particular subject. So, she began to wonder, where was the light coming from? (She hopes that there will be someone coming with the light, because it is not very satisfying to be alone, when she could be healing. Healing is existence.)

The light stopped, and two figures stepped out of it. Who were they? Perhaps they would say. Or perhaps not. Either way, it was rather relieving that they were there. Unconsciously, she probed outwards. They were perfectly well. Ah. She needed someone to heal. All the energy inside of her would go to waste if she did not find someone. (That would be unfortunate. It is not in her nature to waste energy.)

"Tes, puri-yendaie. Takh linint'K Llaie, porfin. Takh geloren'K-deh." One of them spoke to her. She, of course, understood. She understood all languages. She knew that Llaie was what they were calling her. That was acceptable. (She does not have a name, yet, for herself.)

"Gdonin hhtan'K jirash." The other said, and the light faded away. Llaie stood and raised a hand after them, but they were gone. (This is not as unsettling as one might think, many people have different ways of going about a place than would be expected.)

She sat for some time, on a structure raised above the ground, looking into the darkness that was, perhaps, not quite as dark anymore. But that was speculation, she realized, because she did not know how to gauge the difference between the light and the dark of a room, especially when she had not looked at her surroundings when it was certain that there was light to see with. Now she could not be sure, at all. (But she thinks that there is a light, somewhere in the area. It's just hard to tell where.)

Llaie sat for a very long time, until her thoughts, few and far between, turned to dreams, and she slumped across the structure, sleeping. Her dreams disturbed her. There was something in the past, in her past, but she could not seem to grip it. It slipped from her grasp at just the moment that she caught it and began to understand. She could not think. To think was to live, to heal. (This she knows with a surety, and she thinks that there is a reason she knows it, but it is quite impossible to tell.)

And then her dreams turned, and she remembered the figures. When would they return? Did it matter? Yes. She needed someone to heal. Soon. Or she might die. (Possibly. She is not really very sure about that.)

* * *

A variety of senses were opening themselves, unfolding and crashing down upon her, almost overwhelming her. It was sudden, as loud voices approached her. A good reason to wake. She sat up, stood, then crouched behind the structure. There was no light. Two people. One of them was hurt. The other was angry. (Unacceptable. Anger pollutes her healing.)

"Well, Linke? There's no one here!"

"All things are not as they appear. Patience is a virtue."

"Tell that to your tricorder."

One of the men sighed, but no more words were said. Briefly, Llaie wondered if they were angry at each other, or if they were unhappy at the situation. (She decides that it is the latter. On another matter, she finds herself wanting very much to heal the injury. It would be contrary to her nature not to do so, as it is but a scraping of skin. She cannot be hurt by it.)

"There's something here." The voice was sharp with discovery. (How she understands this, she is not sure, but she does all the same.)

"Well, what is it?" Llaie winced at the sharp tone. Surely he was not angry that something had been found? It seemed unlikely, unless she did not understand what was going on with them at all. (This is possible. They seem to be interesting and unpredictable creatures.)

"Some sort of structure..." (The want to heal the injured man is increasing, but she is also afraid to venture out from her hiding place.)

Yes. A structure. Llaie listened closely, wondering if he would reveal more about it. She had not really thought to examine it. And how did he know that it was a structure? She was sure he had not touched it. (She almost leaps out to touch the man, herself, but restrains the impulse.)

"Someone is behind it. The life form I told you about. Humanoid." She knew that he was talking about her, but somehow she was not longer afraid of them finding her. (This is, perhaps, a very good thing. She can heal the man who has been hurt.)

Slowly, Llaie stood and walked towards the voices, shrouded in the dark. She touched Linke's shoulder, very lightly, beginning to draw the pain away. A line of blood was wet on her skin. (It is uncomfortable, but not unbearable, especially since she knows it will be gone before too long.)

Linke jumped, gasped. His partner turned towards him, concerned. She could feel the concern, and the confusion, saturating the air. (It is a very strong projection, not like the figures from before. Those were silent in their emotions.)

"Hey!" The man with the strong emotions raised a device and pulled the trigger, and a blunt force knocked her to the ground, filling her with a dull, heavy pain, even as she saw a stream of color, shooting from the device. _Weapon._ Despite the fact that he was angry, he seemed to be quite protective of his companion. This was confusing. If he was not angry with his companion, who—or what—was he angry with? (She does not consider that he may be angry with her, as there is no reason for him to be. She is healing his friend. It is insensible to resent that.)

"Ozaba!" The used-to-be-injured man said, looking horrified. "It's just a girl. And what setting is your phaser on? She's not even out." (Just a girl? Llaie thinks, but she understands that the man means she is not a threat. Not necessarily true, but...)

"Excuse me, Miss." The one called Ozaba stretched out a hand to help her up, and she accepted it, getting to her feet once again with his aid. The pain inside wrenched, white and freezing. (Extremely unpleasant, she recoils.)

"I thought you would be...well, I don't really know what I thought. Just instinctive, I guess." (Why is he still talking? She understands.)

"She must be resistant to phaser-fire," Linke concluded. Inductive reasoning. But unimportant. (She smiles, very slightly.)

Llaie stood there, studying the men. Why had they come here? Why had she come here? (She does not know why she questions her existence. It seems unreasonable.)

"Miss? Can you tell us your name?" Ozaba said. Llaie laughed inside. She could not speak. If she had a tool, she felt sure she could write, but she did not, so that was irrelevant. (She feels a throb in her shoulder where the half-created wound lies, and remembers.)

She walked around to face the man who was injured (she did not wish to startle him again), then reached her hand out and touched him. His flesh was warm. She was very cold. His pain was hers, all hers, and surely the wound was gone off of him. A few drops of her indigo blood disappeared from her body—she was not sure how she knew the color of her blood—and a different kind slid down her shoulder blade. (It is almost as satisfying as it is painful.)

"Ozaba..." The older man, the one who was bleeding, spoke to his companion. His face was full of wonder. (Llaie finds this amusing.)

"What is it? What is she doing to you, Linke?" Ozaba looked half-inclined to shoot her again, but instead raised a device up to his companion, filling the air with small noises. Llaie wrenched away from Linke, stumbling as a burst of heat exploded in her shoulder—some of her blood had been replaced with the red kind. (This is expected, so more painful than surprising.)

Linke caught her as she fell, then lay her down on the structure, his hand probing the area where her wound burned. His fingers caught a pool of blood before the injury faded away to a scar, then disappeared entirely. (All her blood is cold once again, which is quite relieving. She does not appreciate the heated veins of these people.)

"She healed my wound." Linke's tone was awed, almost disbelieving. How ridiculous. Ozaba set the device down on the structure and stepped towards Linke, confusion dominating his expression—with undertones of relief and curiosity. These people got easier to read the longer you looked at them. (This is good. She will know how they feel about things wit hour evendors probing.)

Ozaba looked toward her, suddenly, and toward his companion's hand, covered in what was technically Linke's own blood. Except they undoubtedly believe that it is hers, since they do not seem to understand her healing nature. (Do they not heal, themselves? Interesting.)

"Is she injured?" Ozaba asked quietly, gesturing toward her. Did he think that she could not hear him? And if they did not know her nature, she should not be expected to know their language at all, as she was certain it was not her original language. (She finds herself wondering of their nature.)

"No, I don't think so. For a moment it seemed that her shoulder was cut, but I must have imagined it, because I don't see a wound now."

"Then, that's your blood? I thought you said you weren't going to touch the wound, in case it got infected!"

"I didn't...I don't know where this blood came from."

Llaie listened to their talking, wondering if they would ever realize. They were strange things, this Linke and Ozaba, surely not like the figures who had come earlier. Could they understand living, perhaps? It would explain much if they did. (It dawns upon her soon after she thinks this that they cannot possibly understand living; from the way they converse, they are comfortable here, like her.)

"Well, how did we get here, then?!" Ozaba shouted, clearly angry. Llaie found this annoying even as she realized that they were not, after all, comfortable here. Ozaba became angry frequently for no recognizable purpose. (She vows never to become this way herself.)

"I don't know." Linke said, calmly, but not without emphasis. "I'm just saying—"

The light was coming again, and Linke stopped speaking as the area around them grew brighter and brighter. Two figures stepped out from the shadows, and Ozaba leapt to his feet, pulling some kind of object from his belt. (She wonders what it is.)

No one said anything for a moment or two, then the taller figure stepped forward, out of the shadow. (She wonders why it is necessary to do so; could the figure not just speak?)

"Llaie, gdonin forten'T takh." She understood, but she also was not sure how to respond to that. What kind of examination? (She is apprehensive.)

Ozaba stood as the figures strode towards them. He was very tall. Linke met them halfway to the structure, weapon held in one shaking hand. (She does not know why his hand is shaking.)

"Who are you?" Ozaba asked guardedly, a slight tremor permeating his strong voice. Llaie watched as the figures each raised a device, and, before she knew it, Ozaba's weapon was gone, a similar one disappearing from Linke's belt. (This is rather surprising. She will have to think about it.)

"We are Vians," The figures said together in Ozaba and Linke's language, moving around Linke. "Do not interfere."

Linke moved to intercept the Vians, but they raised their devices, and a forcefield erupted around him. Ozaba did not move from where he stood, next to the platform-structure. (Llaie finds this interesting; she would expect him to attempt to free Linke or escape the Vians. Perhaps she has misjudged these people.)

Ozaba watched them, warily, as they scanned over Llaie, her body twitching and shaking. It did not last for long, and then they left, taking the light with them. (She is unhappy about this.)

Before long, exhaustion took her consciousness, and she faded into almost-sleep, lying on the platform-structure. Ozaba and Linke were whispering some ways away, but she was too tired to listen. (She is also too tired to contemplate a reason that she would sleep, as she has not been awake for more than a few hours.)

* * *

A variety of senses were opening themselves, unfolding and crashing down upon her, almost overwhelming her. But she sat up, quickly, and looked around her, noticing immediately that Linke and Ozaba were no longer there. She stood and walked about, stretching, probing into the darkness. (She believes her emotion might be called panic.)

Nothing.

Then Llaie returned to the platform-structure and sat, and wept, for a reason which she did not know. (Neither does she want to know.)

She sat for long hours, mind blank, cruel silence filling her healing agenda. Eventually she collapsed again into a painful sleep, awaking what she was sure was only minutes later to the sound of nothingness. (She weeps once more, steady to her heartbeat.)

The stream of time became one endless question - will the men return? Her healing pathways had closed and shut down, her only thought to find Linke or Ozaba, wherever they might be. (And yet, she does not even attempt to search for them, instead remaining content to sit on the structure and wonder, and sob.)

The Vians did not return, and Llaie found that she did not care. At a point, it seemed that it did not matter anymore, and she simply cleared her thoughts, so that her mind was blank, and lay back, and shut herself down. (It is almost a relief, for nothing to be important.)

And yet, every so often, a twitch, of a fragment, of absolutely nothing, would spike in her mind, and Llaie would nearly awaken from the self-induced coma. But she did not. (She is at rest, until the time should come to arise.)

* * *

A variety of senses were opening themselves, unfolding and crashing down upon her, almost overwhelming her. She wondered, immediately, what had brought her awakening, the curiosity flooding her like the fire from Ozaba's weapon had so long ago. Llaie felt that much time had passed. (Much like once, long ago, she wonders how she knows this.)

Except, now the place was lighted. Scarlet, hot. She could see the light as it pierced her eyelids and flooded her sight with pure white. (She finds it interesting that the light is neither red, as she somehow thought at first, nor boiling.)

Three men, with weapons. One was injured. A memory of cold pain, and hot blood, and abandoning. (She does not open her eyes, but they are there.)

It blurred. They talked. One called her 'Gem', another word for Llaie. They were good. Better than Ozaba and Linke, somehow. The Vians came, and they left. She healed the Gold one. Jim. It felt like tearing open an old wound, rediscovering her nature. She felt her blood burning, and it really should not have hurt that much. It shouldn't have. (But it does.)

Gem went with Gold and McCoy and the Other One. There were many structures. (Many, many.)

And...Ozaba. And Linke. She was sure that they were no longer alive. This was less disturbing than Llaie would have found it when she first met the men. She did not know why. (There is probably a reason, but there are more interesting things to do than think of it.)

One Vian appeared. He seemed distressed. Gold and the Other One neutralized him and tried to escape. Gem went with them. They called their ship. It was cold. They ran. Gold helped her. (She has never run, that she can remember. But she cannot remember many things.)

Gold released Llaie, told her to go on, when Vians appeared. She did as he said. (Perhaps unfortunately.)

Gem took McCoy and the Other One back to Gold. They had halted in their pointless run. Then they left, after talking. All the talking. McCoy took her hand. (Just then, they appear again in the place where she had been for so long.)

Not long after hearing McCoy's exclamations and seeing the Other One's expression, Llaie was kneeling beside the Vians. They pointed their devices (weapons?) at Gold.

He had been hurt again, by the Vians. Gem saw it. It took a lot to heal him, she didn't want to, even though she did. Instinct told her not to. McCoy helped her go on. McCoy was good in this way, to encourage her healing, but it hurt. (It really does.)

Llaie slept. It was not a natural sleep, but it was helpful. She did not stay so for long, merely watched McCoy and Gold and the Other One conversing. (There is no reason to rise.)

McCoy looked toward Gem. She smiled. They kept talking, and Vians appeared, _again_. Then they left. Gold was distressed. He called McCoy 'Bones'. Interesting. Was Bones his original name, his first name? (She wonders about many things.)

McCoy (Bones?) pressed a device to Gold's skin. He slept. He spoke with the Other One. Bones was upset. Llaie approached the Other One, rested her hand on his shoulder, trying to feel his emotions. He resisted. (She does not understand why.)

McCoy came up behind the Other One. The Other One slept. The Vians came, again. Bones left with them, telling Gem that his friends would take care of her. The Other One and Gold both slept. It would be unreasonable to think that they could do anything. (These people…)

She watched as McCoy disappeared. She wanted to weep. A single tear escaped. Her crying had ended long ago. (This is what she assumes.)

The two men woke. They talked, but not to her. She did not attempt to get their attention, until they stood, examining a device. The Vian's device. It could help them get McCoy. Llaie took McCoy's device, presented them to Gold. He nodded. (She is unaccountably relieved.)

Bones was hurt, badly. She did not want to heal him, even as she longed to. Gold and the Other One cared for him, but it would not be enough. This she knew. (She hates the knowledge.)

They were talking. Again! How she hated the speech, words that she did not care enough to listen to. (She really does not.)

But a forcefield sprang up around Gold and the Other One, and she stood. She knew. Just as Gold would let his friends live, and himself die… (She does not want to think about what she is doing.)

She began to heal McCoy. The heat was flooding her. She tried, she did. But she broke off. Too much. (She is so, so sorry.)

But then, she remembered. How McCoy was upset. How he -

(Her thoughts stop, she truly does not understand her reasoning.)

Gem returned. She began, slowly, to let the heat overcome the ice cold. But he pushed her away. The black invaded. Sleep-like.

(She hopes, without hope, that McCoy will live.)

* * *

 **Y'all should all be proud of me. This is the longest one piece of story I have ever made.**

 **You may notice that when our well known friends come in, her thoughts are shorter, more broken off. That's partly because I was getting tired of this piece and partly because...save me by thinking of another reason, somebody?**


End file.
